


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by YanderexBabydoll



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Cheating, Drunk Sex, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28048344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderexBabydoll/pseuds/YanderexBabydoll
Summary: What's another drink with old friends?
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei/Reader, Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader, Matsukawa Issei/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 185





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

_Just a few drinks with old friends_ , you’d promised.

It wasn’t the sole reason for your trip back home to Miyagi, but by some small miracle, your visit coincided with Oikawa’s, and with Iwa coming up from Tokyo too, the stars just sort of aligned that way.

Still, your boyfriend hadn’t been particularly thrilled to learn that when you said you’d be spending the night hanging out with some old friends, you’d _actually_ meant that you were spending the night hanging out with your old volleyball teammates. 

You promised that you’d call him when you got back to the hotel. You’d promised that it wouldn’t be a late night - that there was _absolutely nothing_ for him to worry about.

Except it _is_ late - somewhere in between your fourth and fifth drinks time seems to have slipped away from you. There’s a pleasant buzz in your system, you’re warm and happy, giggling along with your old friends as the hours trickle past. You remember Iwa heading off, his strong arm tugging you into a hug and a kiss pressed to your hair, and Oikawa leaving a little after that.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he’d sung out from the doorway with a wink, deft fingers knotting the scarf around his neck. 

And you know that you’d meant to go a little after that, except you’d no sooner finished your drink than Makki was at your side, pressing another one into your hand. You’ve long since abandoned wine in favour of letting them play bartender. The alcohol’s red and sweet smelling, something fruity maybe, but you’ve learned by now that it’s pointless to try and guess what’s in it - you’re too tipsy to even try to distinguish the flavours and Hanamaki only laughs when you ask. 

“Hiro-”

The glittering smile he sends you is a picture of innocence, but it’s Mattsun who speaks. “C’mon, one more drink. Don’t run off just yet, we’ve missed you.”

And there it is - that familiar twinge of guilt. 

It’s not like you were the only one to leave Miyagi and move on with your life, yet you can’t help but think back to all the messages you meant to reply to but never did, all the plans to come hang out and catch up that fell by the wayside when life simply got in the way. It wasn’t intentional at all - they’re still your friends and you love them - but… you could have made more of an effort. 

It’s been such a long time since you’ve been able to hang out with them like this. What’s the harm in one more drink with old friends?

You smile sheepishly, “I missed you guys, too.” And down the drink goes.

Except now, sitting on the couch snugly tucked in between the two of them, your head’s spinning and no matter how much you dig through your purse, you can’t seem to find your phone.

Makki’s arm’s draped over the back of the couch, fingers just barely grazing along your skin, a lazy grin adorning his face as he leans in close, “Whatcha doin’ there, sweetheart?”

You glance up at him, ignoring the way the room shifts and the fuzziness in your head as you pout, “I… can’t find my phone?” you say, your face scrunching up adorably.

It sounds more like a question than anything else. 

Earlier in the evening, Oikawa had caught you texting your boyfriend and with a disgruntled huff had threatened to snatch it from you and hide it away - ‘ _Don’t be rude, Y/N, you’re with_ us _tonight. He can have you back later_.’ - but you don’t remember him ever actually taking it. And you could have sworn you put it back in your bag, but it’s definitely not there anymore - you’ve checked!

A low, rumbling laugh sounds on your other side, and in some distant part of your brain you dimly register the warm palm resting on your thigh as you snap your attention back to Matsukawa. “Why do you need your phone, pretty girl?”

His face is mere inches from your own, dark, hooded eyes watching intently as you cock your head in confusion. “Cause I need to get an Uber back to the hotel?” you reply. “It’s late and ‘m tired. I wanna go to bed.” 

You always get sleepy when you drink - all you can think about is the soft bed calling your name, burrowing into warm sheets with your boyfriend’s voice lulling you off to sleep. 

“You’re not in the big city anymore, Y/N,” Takahiro teases, “You’re not gonna get an uber ‘round here in the middle of the night.”

“Makki’s right, why don’t you just stay the night here instead?” 

You shake your head, “No, I-” … You’d _promised_. “You guys are sweet, but I just wanna go back to the room ‘n crash.”

But first, you need your phone. Maybe you could call a cab? Surely you can still get a cab at this time of night in Miyagi, right? Their apartment isn’t _that_ far from Sendai… Your attention snaps back to the purse sitting open in your lap, gazing forlornly at its contents as if that’ll somehow make your phone reappear. 

Mattsun’s thumb strokes leisurely back and forth along your thigh as Hiro captures your chin in a soft grip, tilting your face back to look at him. “It’s snowing out there, sweetheart. Stay - you can even take the bed if you want. We don’t mind.”

There’s an echoed agreement from your other side. 

Makki smiles, soft and warm - reassuring - and a distant, foggy memory surfaces; your last training camp back in highschool, of the four of them dragging your sleeping roll from your room into the one they’d claimed as their own. _You want to stay in here with us, don’t you?_

You shake yourself free, a crinkle appearing between your brow. “I…” but you falter, words escaping you. “… need to find my phone.”

_You promised, you promised, you promised._

Drawing back from Makki, you try to stand, teetering and stumbling a little as you fight to maintain your balance–

– but it’s all for naught, because the moment you go to take a step, strong, muscular arms curl around your waist and suddenly you’re falling backwards into Mattsun’s lap with a startled squeak. 

“What’s the hurry, beautiful?” he asks, smirking down at you as you jut your bottom lip out in a childish pout. 

“Issei,” you whine, “stop mess-”

His arm shifts, suddenly the hand that was on your waist is cupping your breast, palming at it, and his smirk widens - a Cheshire cat like grin, leering and _hungry_.

Ice douses your system, shocking you into painfully harsh clarity. Your breath catches in your throat. You’re drunk - you know you’re drunk. 

You’re not _that_ drunk.

Dark, glittering eyes watch as you pale, a flicker of confusion - of fear - passing over your features, “We just got you back.”

Yet even as you start to shake, feeble arms reaching out to push him away (why won’t your muscles move like you want them to?) another body settles over you - Makki, caging you in between the two of them. “Don’t go running off on us now.”

_‘Just… promise me that this isn’t something I need to worry about.’_

_‘You don’t need to worry, babe. They’re just friends - I promise. It isn’t like that between us.’_

You remember the days of sitting court side, watching them run and jump and fly across the court. There was a sense of awe, even after three long years, every time you saw them spike or serve, even their blocks were impressive. You’d sit back and marvel at their strength, their power… 

And then the moment they’d step off the court victorious once again, you’d be swallowed up in their embrace, lifted up as if you weighed nothing and swung around and in between peals of shrieking laughter you’d yell at them to stop manhandling you like a doll.

It’s not so different from the way Mattsun hefts you over his shoulder now, landing a powerful smack against your ass with a laugh as your fists beat against his back.

Between the two of them, he’d always been the taller one, stockier than Makki - more imposing too. It’s almost no effort at all for him to cart you, kicking up as much of a fuss as you can manage in your inebriated state, off to the bedroom and toss you down onto the mattress with nothing more than a soft grunt. 

But it’s Makki - stronger than he looks, never to be underestimated Makki - who’s on you first. Straddling your chest, his hands are on your sweater, impatiently yanking it up and over your tits as he smothers your cries with a kiss.

And your head’s spinning, your stomach churning. It all happens too quickly, the sound of a belt unbuckling, clothes - yours and theirs - hitting the floor. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears, the terrified rabbit-like thumping that drowns out everything else. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth, your words - the ones you can barely string together in your head - catching on the lump in your throat. You try to fight, to shove him off but it’s like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and unwieldy, refusing to obey your commands. 

Tears fill your eyes, and it’s futile trying to blink them back, they spill down your flushed cheeks accompanied by tiny hiccuping sobs. Your entire body shakes as Mattsun joins the two of you on the bed, crawling up beside the two of you as Makki kisses and sucks a hot, wet trail along your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, and for the first time that night you think you see a faint frown marring his handsome features as he studies you. A rough, calloused finger pad swipes along your cheek, brushing away your tears. “Don’t cry, baby girl. We’re not gonna hurt you, you know we’d never do that.”

And if you weren’t so terrified, paralysed by the potent concoction of alcohol and fear and whatever the hell Makki had slipped in your drink, the hysteria building up in your chest might have escaped in a laugh. Not because it’s a lie - though it undoubtedly is, everything they’ve done so far only goes to prove that - but because in that moment you realise how blindly naive you’ve been.

You ignored the whispers back in high school. You let their familiar intimacy slide. The less than casual touches, the ‘jokes’ they made that always felt just a little too serious to truly laugh at. You were a team, yes, but there was never any doubt that you were closer to the four third years than you were to the others. The bond you had with them was different - it might have been unspoken but that didn’t mean it went unacknowledged.

You never questioned their overprotectiveness, their constant and unwavering presence in your life, even outside of practice. You were their manager, but more importantly you were their friend - could you really blame them for wanting to keep you close? And if they scared off any potential suitors, well that was okay too - between schoolwork and volleyball, you didn’t have time to date anyway.

And when graduation loomed over the five of you, and you spoke about plans to ditch Miyagi - to move across the country for university, leaving them behind - you brushed off their blatant disapproval as nothing more than an innocent, if not misguided, desire to keep the things as they were. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa were leaving, why was it such a big deal that you were going too? How many times had they tried to talk you out of moving - first with sweet words and coaxing logic, and when that didn’t work, screaming matches that had you tearfully running into your Captain’s comforting arms, leaving Iwa to calm his furious teammates.

You just couldn’t understand why they were so against you leaving.

Of course, even if they were pissed off with your decision, they still came to see you off the two of them standing on your front lawn, Issei’s eyes dark and unreadable, his jaw tightly set, Hiro’s arms folded across his chest, an uncharacteristic scowl painted across his face. Yet it all melted away when you hugged them both goodbye, Makki cradling you tightly against him, Mattsun burying his face in your hair and breathing deep - neither of them willing to let go until you gently pried yourself away.

_‘I’m not dying, you guys. I promise we’re still gonna see each other - Osaka’s not that far.’_

You knew that they cared about you, _missed_ _you_ , but you were an idiot to think that that was as far as it went. It’s something dark and warped, shrouded under the guise of love, and far too late you realise that this was never anything more than a carefully laid trap you all but waltzed into.

And the look in Matsukawa’s eyes as he takes your face in hand - his thumb tracing your bottom lip, sliding it into your mouth, along your tongue - makes you want to run and curl into a ball and _hide_.

But all you can do is sob quietly as he smiles, “Been waiting so long for you to come back to us.”

“We’re gonna make you feel so good,” Makki murmurs, blunt nails raking down your stomach as he draws back and nudges your thighs apart. “Show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

“Please,” you manage to whimper, though it feels like you have to wade through a river of molasses just to form the single syllable. And you don’t know whether you want to scream, hurl insults and vicious, bitter snarls or if you want to try and plead with them, promise that you’ll come home and visit more, do better, whatever magic words will get you out of this unscathed. There’s still that little voice in the back of your head that tells you that they’re still your friends, that they don’t want to hurt you, that you can get out of this - you just need to talk them down.

But you can barely think straight as it is, and the drugs working their way through your system are keeping you pliant.

You don’t miss the shared look between the two of them, the teasing smirk that curls at Matsukawa’s lips, the soft shaking of Makki’s body between your legs as he laughs. “It’s alright, baby girl, we’re gonna make you feel _real_ good.”

A high pitched cry jolts from your parted lips as his tongue delves between your thighs, slowly licking along your slit with a low moan. “Knew you’d taste fuckin’ delicious.”

But you’re barely given a moment to process the foreign sensation before Mattsun’s forcefully drawing your attention back to him, to the huge cock he’s stroking in hand - long, thick and flushed to the tip, already hard and throbbing in anticipation. “You’re gonna be good for us, aren’t you, baby?” he asks as he guides the shining head to your lips. 

He says it like you have a choice.

Like you have _any_ control in this situation as he shoves his cock into your mouth, fisting a hand in your hair and using it as purchase to fuck your throat while Makki eats out your pussy and sloppily sucks on your clit.

You’re choking, struggling to take Mattsun’s dick as it pounds relentlessly into your mouth, his balls slapping at your chin when Hanamaki’s fingers plunge into your cunt, curling and rubbing up against that _perfect_ spot-

And suddenly you’re seeing white, your body trembling, writhing, screaming around Issei’s length - it’s the first orgasm they wring out of you for the night, but it won’t be the last. 

No, you should have learned by now that they both have impressive stamina. You lose sense of time as you’re manhandled between them, forced down onto Matsukawa’s horsecock only minutes after he shoots his load down your throat - your pained whines and breathless pleas all but ignored as Makki coos at you and plays with your tits, marvelling at the way they bounce as strong hands force your hips to meet every rabid thrust.

But soon that’s not enough either, and you’re maneuvered onto your knees, Issei still pounding into your warm, dripping cunt, while Makki lies beneath you, fingers running gently through your hair as he guides you along in sucking him off.

Your throat burns, your body is aching. They promised to be gentle with you but with every thrust Issei’s cock splits you apart and rams against your cervix, and while Hanamaki’s grip isn’t as bruising or tight and his cock isn’t nearly so big, he’s far from considerate as his hips buck and he mashes your face against his navel with a stuttered moan, forcing you to swallow him down.

Everything is hazy, the room’s too hot - or maybe it’s their body heat, it’s stifling, suffocating, you feel like you can’t breathe. You can barely keep your eyes open, can barely tell up from down as they switch again. There’s a mouth on your tits, teeth sinking into your shoulder as another cock lines up with your sopping pussy. You distantly register a bottle cap opening and the sound of something squirting, and you only have a moment to ponder what it is before there’s something cool, wet and insistent pressing up against your ass. 

Both of them ignore your terrified whimpers and garbled pleas, and all you can do is fist at the bed sheets and choke back a scream as you’re filled in an entirely new, agonizing way.

Rough fingers circle your clit, a tongue flicking across your nipple, teasing, biting.

Laughter, and praise and hoarse, low grunts mixed in with the slick, wet sound of skin slapping against skin. 

_It’s too much. It’s too much. It’s too much, and you want it to stop-_

“Doing so damn good for us baby, just a little more, yeah?”

“Look at you, so pretty all fucked out, taking our cocks so well. It’s like you were made for us. You gonna cum for me again, princess?”

“Love you. We love you - shit! - so _fucking_ much!”

And you can’t do a single thing but tremble and cry as pleasure so intense it’s almost burning rockets through you once more. 

You collapse boneless against the bed, only to be pulled into a warm embrace, kisses pressed against your flushed, tear stained cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your swollen lips. There’s pink tinged cum seeping out from your lower half, making a mess on your thighs and the sheets below, but Matsukawa doesn’t seem to mind as he tucks you against his chest, fingers idly stroking your arm, humming contentedly.

Your eyes feel like they’re weighted with lead, your body melting into the soft mattress as exhaustion sinks its claws into you and begins to drag you under. You can’t feel the shame and humiliation anymore, not the sting of betrayal or your aching grief, much less the guilt that should be eating away at you - you’re too far gone for that, the drugs and the alcohol and your own shattered state numbing you to all else.

You don’t see Makki leave the room, returning moments later with your phone in hand. You don’t notice the pictures he takes with a smug little grin - swiping through your contacts and selecting his favourites of the bunch before hitting send.

You’re barely clinging to consciousness as he tosses it aside and climbs back into the bed with the two of you, curling up beside you and laying a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Love you, sweetheart.”


End file.
